Free Happiness Key by Emilie Richards Page B

aglow.
    In the bedroom, she stood in the door with her hands on her hips. The mattress was a double, maybe even a queen size. She was going to have to drag it on its sideand hope it didn’t flip one way or the other as she maneuvered it through the rooms.
    She heard footsteps, and Wanda came to stand in the doorway.
    “He never said much about himself,” Wanda said. “In answer to your question. Not that I care whether you have to play detective, but Herb deserves a little peace.”
    “What did he say, do you remember?”
    “I think he said he was from Florida. Never said exactly where, though, or if that meant he’d been born in the state. I got the impression he’d lived a few places in his time, something of a wanderer.”
    “He never said anything about family?”
    “Uh-uh. And I never saw any, either.”
    “Friends?”
    “He did play chess in Grambling Park with some other old men. I saw him there a couple of times, when I was on the way to the grocery store. Never said nothing about it to me, though.”
    “Were you interested?” Tracy knew she should be asking herself the same question. “Never mind. I wasn’t. Why should you have been?”
    “I did bring him that pie.” Wanda sounded defensive.
    “And last week I took him some mail the carrier stuck in my box by mistake. That’s about the sum total of my interaction with the guy.”
    “What’ll they do if you don’t find somebody to take charge?”
    Tracy had no idea. Was it up to her? Was she the next-best thing to next of kin because she owned the guy’s house? “I guess if nobody comes forward, I’m going to have to go through his papers. You know. To see what I can find out.”
    “Guess you didn’t know what you were getting into when you took this job.”
    “I didn’t take it. It was handed to me. And trust me, it’s not a barrel of laughs.”
    “Is that what you’re here for? To look through his things?”
    “I’m here to drag the mattress out for the trash pickup tomorrow. He died on the bed. It’s got to go.”
    “You’re going to do it by yourself?”
    “I was planning to.” Tracy waited, hoping, despite herself, that Wanda would volunteer to help. Between them, they could make short work of it.
    “That’s a big job,” Wanda said.
    “Has to be done.”
    “Well…” Wanda hesitated, then she smirked. “I’ll leave you to it. Sounds like it’s gonna take a little time to get it out there. I won’t keep you.”
    “Lock the kitchen door on your way out, won’t you? And leave Herb’s key on the dresser.”
    A minute later Tracy heard the back door close. She wasn’t sure whether to be sorry that Wanda hadn’t stayed to help or thrilled the woman was gone. In another minute she was too busy wrestling the mattress to worry about it.

chapter five
    Wanda was a sucker for sad country songs. Patsy Cline and George Jones made her weep before they paused for their first recorded breaths. But Dolly Parton singing “I Will Always Love You”? That wasn’t just a weeper, that was a serious thunderstorm.
    Wanda felt around on the kitchen counter for a dish towel, took off her glasses and blotted her eyes before she switched off her favorite radio station. She felt as if she’d been wrung dry. Maybe Whitney Houston had made it to the top of the pop charts with Dolly’s song, but she shouldn’t ought to have. Wanda liked Whitney Houston—although she did wonder some about that ex-husband of hers—but nobody else ought to sing one of Dolly’s songs. It was like one of the portrait artists at the downtown beach trying to paint the Mona Lisa.
    Wanda wasn’t perfect, but drinking was one problem she’d never had. She never drank if she thought she needed to. That was the key, and she’d told a lot of her customers that very thing, too, although most of themignored her. Now she went to the old Kelvinator that had come with the cottage and rummaged to see if Ken had left her a Corona. She found a couple in the back,